


The Cerulean Dream™

by undying_young



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: M/M, Unresolved Romantic Tension, daario know wtf goin on, my sweet baby bois, they just tryna find a suit man, this is soft ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 14:24:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14215101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undying_young/pseuds/undying_young
Summary: What should've happened in the the suit-shopping scene.





	The Cerulean Dream™

**Author's Note:**

> beta read by TheSubtextMachine

Jonah couldn't exactly remember when he'd said yes to helping Cyrus pick out a suit. All he remembered was seeing the boy come up to him with those sad, dreamy eyes and ask him a question. Jonah hadn't really heard the question, it all sounded a bit far off, but he'd blurted out a “Yes, yeah, sure,” then Cyrus had _smiled at him_ , and when the boy hugged him and waved goodbye, Jonah decided that if it got him a smile like that, whatever he'd just agreed to was probably the best decision he'd made all week.

 

It was only when they were walking into the suit shop that Saturday afternoon that Jonah Beck fully assessed the situation, and had to take a moment to really think. Cyrus turned to him, letting worry transparently paint his face.

 

“You're already regretting this, aren't you?”

 

Jonah frowned. _Was_ he regretting it?

 

Taking a moment to look at Cyrus’ pained face, he decided that no, he wasn’t. Not even close. So he told the truth.

 

“Cyrus, there's no place I'd rather be right now.”

 

His heart warmed when Cyrus smiled again, and wide; that smile he showed when he wasn't even thinking, wasn't _worrying_ \--

 

“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” A deep voice broke the disc-head out of his thoughts, and he turned to see a tall, slim man exiting the back of the shop, presumably his office. The man was had salt-and-pepper hair, dark brown skin, and had a pair of rimless glasses sitting on his nose. He looked older, but full of life. Jonah hoped he looked like that when he got old.

 

“I heard talking from the back,” the man said, “You must be the Goodman party, I've been expecting you. Which one of you is Mr. Goodman?”

 

Cyrus raised his hand, and the man gave a good-natured smile. “I should've recognized those features; you take after your father.”

 

Cyrus chuckled, and grabbed Jonah's arm, pulling him forward so that they were standing side-by-side. Before he thought about it, Jonah held Cyrus’ in place as the other boy introduced him to the tailor. His hands were warm. Maybe if Cyrus didn't mind, he could just leave his hand there...

 

“This is Daario. He has dressed nearly every guy in the state for bar mitzvahs, prom, weddings, even red carpet events, including my dad, and today we have the pleasure of working with him.”

 

“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Goodman,” the man responded, bowing his head.

 

“Please, call me Cyrus, Mr. Goodman is my father.” Jonah chuckled at that, and Cyrus gestured to the boy beside him. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Daario. This is Jonah Beck. He's gonna be helping me pick out a suit today. We’ll call you if we need you, okay?”

 

They were gonna be alone? God, why did Jonah's heart surge every time they were alone? And how did he not pick up that they were gonna be alone ‘til now? God, Jonah really needed to start paying attention.

 

“Of course,” the man-- _Daario_ \--replied. “Your room is ready, and please, take your time. Do not hesitate to ask for anything; make yourselves at home.”

 

The boys smiled politely, and just as smoothly as he greeted them, Daario quickly disappeared.

 

Watching Cyrus model suits for him was something like an art.

 

He tried on at least a dozen, all in varying colors. There was a red one-- “ _Burgundy_ , Jonah,” Cyrus had said to him, “the _third_ one was red.”--that had caught his eye, but before he knew it Cyrus had been wearing a green one-- _forest_ green--and that looked just as good, if not better. They'd eaten snacks, shared some cocoa, even chatted about the suits, but Cyrus hadn’t been satisfied with any of them. That part sucked, because Cyrus looked good in _everything_ , no matter how much he laughed it off, and no matter how dorky some of those suits would've looked on someone else. It was like he didn't even try.

 

“How's this one?”

 

The current suit they were working on was a brown-grayish color, and surprise, Cyrus looked nice in it. The way the blue eyed boy figured, if Cyrus liked it, so did he. Cyrus was always wearing a good outfit, after all.

 

Jonah gave a shrug. “I dunno. I'm not really that good at fashion like you; wouldn't wanna steer you wrong.”

 

Cyrus stood up straighter. “Well, I am pretty good at dressing, aren't I?”

 

Jonah nodded encouragingly, and he hoped that Cyrus felt good, but the way he was now looking at him made told him that the boy still wasn't satisfied.

 

“Okay--” Cyrus made his way across the room, and sat on one of the armrests of Jonah’s chair, the latter of whom was looking more uncertain by the second. “None of that matters; your personal opinion is what matters to me right now.” Cyrus nodded towards the mirror. “C'mon.”

 

And Jonah listened, because it was Cyrus, and when he wasn't being anxious or self-deprecating, he was usually right. Maybe he was just feeling a bit weird after the whole film debacle. Seeing Cyrus so down only made Jonah want to raise him up more. Had that affected his judgement?

 

He refocused when Cyrus nudged his shoulder. “What does Jonah personally think? Constructive criticism. Go.”

 

Jonah shrugged. “You look good in everything.”

 

Cyrus snorted in a way that the other boy’s heart squeeze. “Please, Jonah, no time for jokes.”

 

The squeeze turned into a horrible crushing feeling, and Jonah shook his head, suddenly growing upset.

 

“But it wasn't a joke,” he insisted, desperately hoping the boy before him would really listen to him. “It's never a joke, and I really wish you'd stop putting yourself down.”

 

The other boy scoffed, and fixed his collar, attempting to brush it off. “I don't put myself down _that_ much.”

 

“It’s that you do it at all.”

 

And Cyrus really did begin to respond, but once he opened his mouth, no words came out. Jonah had him, and they both knew it.

 

Jonah tried for a smile. “You're awesome, Cyrus Goodman. I've meant it every time, and I'll keep meaning it, and one day you'll understand. And I hope it's soon, Cy, I really do.”

 

Cyrus blinked owlishly, opened his mouth, then closed it again. He turned back to the mirror, and Jonah sighed, shaking his head to himself. Jonah looked into the mirror with the other boy, and looked him over several times, trying to find something he didn't like.

 

With a small, resigned huff (and after a bit of thinking), Jonah said, “I don't like the color one bit.”

 

And the corners of Cyrus’ mouth kind of tugged upwards for a moment, some of the intensity of the moment melting away. “Not a taupe guy?”

 

“‘Fraid not. Screams ‘old man.’”

 

Cyrus smiled wider, nodded once, and went to try on another.

 

Hours went on from there, but to both of the boys, it either felt like only minutes, or they didn't care. Time after time, Cyrus would walk out and model some suit--and pretty soon the bar mitzvah was an afterthought, pretty soon it was just them having fun. And it _was_ fun. Jonah was having the most fun he'd probably ever had looking for clothes, and when Cyrus once again disappeared into the dressing room, he hoped Cyrus felt the same.

 

“Whoa.”

 

“Huh?” Jonah looked up from his phone and towards the tiny room that separated them by a curtain. “Cyrus, you okay in there?”

 

“Yeah, I just…” The blue-eyed boy could hear the hesitation in his voice, “Jonah, it's...”

 

Jonah cocked his head to the side and set his phone down on the table. His concern was growing by the second. Was the suit that bad? Were those the last of the suits? Something was going on.

 

“Cyrus, show me.” There was a blip, so he added, “C'mon, Cy, we've been here all day.”

 

So after another moment of hesitation, the boy stepped out, and _damn_.

 

Blue. Jonah's favorite color was blue. For a moment he couldn't remember if his favorite color had been blue before then, but now it was, because Cyrus was wearing it, and he looked _good_.

 

It was a cerulean blue suit ( _cerulean_ , Cyrus had taught him that one), with light blue squares all over it and a white button-up underneath. Jonah had to blink several times to process what he was seeing.

 

Cyrus was standing up straighter than he usually did. “Thoughts?”

 

After a couple moments of stammering, Jonah blurted out, “You look killer, man.”

 

That elicited a raised eyebrow from the other boy, and Cyrus stood in front of the mirror. “I do. I do look killer, don't I?”

 

“Positively docious.” Something caught Jonah's eye, a tiny little detail to be fixed, really and he turned towards Cyrus, his eyes fixated on the collar. “Except…”

 

Cyrus had hardly faced him before Jonah reached for the buttons. It was a small thing, really, he'd just left the first three buttons unbuttoned, but it kind of bothered Jonah, so he took it upon himself to fix it.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

The disc-head shrugged. “Buttoning it up. You're gonna be wearing a tie, right?”

 

“Well, yeah.”

 

“Then it needs to be buttoned.” He finished, straightening the collar. “Hey, I'll go get the tie for you.”

 

“Jonah, you don't have to do that.”

 

“No way, this is your bar mitzvah. Don't tell me you don't wanna see the final look?”

 

Cyrus considered it, a grin splitting across his face. “To heck with it, get the tie!”

 

“I'm starting to get the feeling you don't know how to tie a tie.”

 

They'd been standing there for almost three minutes, and Jonah was nearly finished. He hasn't remembered there being nearly so many loops, but he was determined to follow through.

 

“I kinda forgot, it's been a while since I've really put on a tie for something.”

 

Cyrus considered it. “So where'd you learn how to tie a tie?”

 

“Dad showed me a couple years back.” Jonah gave a small smile, and added in a mumbled “Only thing my dad ever taught me to do, honestly.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

The green-eyed boy nearly scoffed at the thought of his dad being anything like Cyrus' dads. He'd learned early on that that wasn't what he was going to get--attention, interest, general awareness of his existence--whether his father meant well or didn't.

“Nothin', don't worry about it.” Jonah finished the last loop, and smoothed down the fabric. “There, now, see? You look--”

 

Jonah made the mistake of looking up at Cyrus’ face, and just like that, he was stuck.

 

They were closer than he'd imagined, like, _really_ close, and suddenly Jonah felt very warm. Did Daario turn up the heat in there?  It had been cold out. Jonah went to ask Cyrus about it, but all that came out of his mouth was--

 

“Perfect.”

 

Cyrus lit up. “Yeah?”

 

Jonah nodded rapidly. Was he blushing? His cheeks were burning up, it felt like. “Totally.”

 

“Are you all finding everything okay?” Daario asked, causing both of the boys to jump back.

 

Neither of them had noticed the man walk in, and whipped their heads about to face him. Daario hadn't noticed at all; he was too busy grinning proudly at Cyrus.

 

“The Cerulean Dream! An excellent choice, Mr. Goodman. You will certainly turn heads in that one.” The man looked between the boys, “Although, it seems to me you already have.”

 

Cyrus frowned, and Jonah could admit he'd been a little confused, too. “Huh?”

 

But Daario only gave a knowing look (what did that guy know?), and nodded. “All in good time, boy. I'll send the bill to your parents.”

 

“Thanks, Daario. I think we'll head out, now. Say hi to the Mrs. for me.”

 

Daario laughed, and nodded.

 

“And good luck in your future pursuits, Mr. Goodman.”

 

With a bit of a flourish, he was gone again. Jonah frowned, and glanced at Cyrus.

 

“What was that about?”

 

“Dunno.” But the taller boy seemed as though he kind of _did_ know. Story for another time? Jonah let Cyrus be alone with his thoughts for a moment, and checked his phone.

 

“Shoot, Cyrus, it's three forty-two!”

 

That snapped him out of it.

 

“Buffy's game!” Cyrus began furiously untying the tie, and Jonah started to tidy up. “Move, go!”

 

**Author's Note:**

> (daario knows what's up)


End file.
